


What Once Was Second Nature

by crewdlydrawn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Fix-It, I mean you guys knew it was coming, M/M, OT3, Phone Sex, Showers, Stuckam, Stucky - Freeform, Surprise Threesome, Threesome, Video Chat, What do we even call this OT3, and one getting to start theirs, but like SURPRISE! we're having a threesome, intentionally squiffy on POV, sort of, the plan is basically a threesome by the end, two people trying to rebuild their sexual relationship, weak background plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-12 13:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7107946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crewdlydrawn/pseuds/crewdlydrawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four Avengers team members who accidentally walked in on Steve and Bucky trying/starting to have sex, and the one of them who chose to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Thank you for the kind words in comments.)
> 
> IMPORTANT DISTINCTION: Let's pretend Civil War never happened, the team stays together, Bucky remains whole, and they all find a way to play nicely with the world governments organically.

"Is this really even an appropriate use of the world's MV-double-Ps?"  Tony popped a blueberry into his mouth, the line of which remained tilted plaintively even as he chewed.  As much as he wished every last scrap of complication from the Attack on New York was already mopped up, he didn't want to play janitor, and he tended to disagree with what their government oversight deemed a job for the world's ‘most valuable powered-people.' 

Clicking a thumb-sized remote at the digital projector lighting up the wall, Steve let out a longsuffering sigh.  "Well, there's an entire committee full of members _we_ approved that already sat down with that question, so I'm gonna go ahead and say it's a 'yes'.  Can I talk, now?"  Brows raised, he waited, standing at his end of the table opposite the paused projection.

Eyes rolling back into his head, Tony propped his feet up on the edge of the table, settling the bag of berries in his lap.  "Continue," he lobbed over his shoulder, his tone lofty and his hand offering an encouraging enough flourish to convince he wouldn't interrupt for at least two or three minutes.

"As I was saying," Steve began again, clicking the button again to restart its montage of briefing points that the five of them were mostly pretending to read, "we've been getting reports that old Chitauri technology has popped up, and found its way into the hands of private citizens.  Some of which," images flashed over the wall of people who clearly lived the life of luxury posing with various alien artifacts for whatever social media rich folks used, "appear to be operational enough to stir up some concern among the bigwigs."

Natasha popped a bubble with her gum before precisely transferring the wad back into an empty wrapper.  "You mean Washington is getting nervous that some trend-setting trust fund asshole is going to play wrong with some stuff that shoots laser bolts."

"Or go dark side on us because he's got _the pow-ah_."  Clint held up his hands, fingers splayed in a mocking imitation of Palpatine.  Sam half covered his mouth with fingers that had been settled on his chin, but stayed respectfully silent.

"Are they a bunch of rich weirdos with too much time on their hands?  Of course they are.  Are they _dangerous_?  Probably not.  It's all I'm saying."

“I don’t think it’s the _people_ they’re concerned about—”  It was a good effort, but it failed.

Laying her arms over the table, Natasha gave Tony a goading look.  "Takes one to know one, I assume."

Still reaching into the bag, Tony pressed his hand to his chest through the plastic package, mouth open in overdramatic shock.  "Moi?  I'm hurt, Raggedy-Ann."

"Can we focus?"

Uncrossing his arms, Sam sat up straighter.    Steve needed backup, or the room was as lost as a kindergarten classroom at snack time.  "So what do they want us to do, specifically?"

Mouthing a 'thank you', Steve clicked through to an image of a map, complete with teardrop location dots and block lettered titles.  "We've been tasked with splitting up to cover the most dangerous objects first.  And before anyone asks again, it's us because they don't want a task force of regular human beings getting toasted by alien tech, accidental or not.  This is a high enough priority that we can't afford to sit on it, so go ahead and suit up; we leave within the hour."

__________

"I want to go with you."  It wasn't a request, but Bucky remained unarmed and in street clothes as he repeated the same sentiment he'd had before the meeting.  Steve and Sam had brought him in nearly a year ago, but despite following his probation program to the letter, he hadn't been fully cleared yet.

Lacing his boots, Steve felt his jaw tighten in response, the feeling familiar.  "I know, Buck," he stood, hands coming to rest on his own hips through his uniform, "but this is unfamiliar territory for you.  Besides, let's not let your first approved missions start off with aliens, of all things, alright?  Please?"

Flexing the segmented metal fingers on his left, Bucky ran his right hand through his hair.  It was shorter, these days, but it still reached behind his ears, taking on a curled edge around the lobes.  Steve often found himself distracted whenever those careful fingers tucked the dark locks back.  "It's just babysitting some bored, high class fat-heads, isn't it?  Slappin' 'em on the wrist?" 

"Hopefully.  And if that's all it is, it'll be quick, and I'll be fine; back in no time."

Bucky had no illusions about Steve's strength—they'd gone toe to toe more than once, and he knew he could hold his own or better against just about anyone.  What Steve couldn't do, not when he was a skinny kid picking fights in Brooklyn alleys and not when he was suped up and twice the size, was be trusted to _not_ do something _stupid_.

Nodding quietly at first, Bucky caught Steve off guard, grabbing him up into a firm kiss.  Startled, it took Steve only a second to wrap strong arms around him in return, holding him close.  That grip changed to a push the second Bucky ground his hips forward. 

"I'd like not to have to get ready all over again, and be late."  His voice was already breathless, and Bucky took advantage of it.  With a carefully calculated hold of Steve's wrist in his left hand, Bucky quickly trailed his right down his waist, palming over his groin.  " _Or_ be a mess inside the suit."  The latter was more groaned than spoken, and Bucky was already winning before he pinned Captain America to the wall with a thud.  "Buck..."

He didn't hesitate.  Tucking his mouth and nose in against Steve's exposed neck, he raised their hands against the wall, body close as he rubbed Steve's dick through his suit.  There was padding there, but even that couldn't hide the familiar shape from Bucky, especially with how quickly it reacted to his touch.  Steve had always been a little easy, at least for him.

"No one will know."  The assurance came with nips of his teeth against the line of Steve's jaw, running a trail that would have left an unenhanced person with a blazing line of evidence, but on Steve would simply be remembered unseen.  "Just me, and you."

Steve's free hand that had been pushing halfheartedly at Bucky's chest turned to grasping his hip, fingers tightening and loosening along with the catch in his breath.  He was quiet, they'd always been good with that, but Bucky could hear every hitch, every shudder, and the flush to his cheeks spurred his own hand to press more firmly, its heel dragging across the head of Steve's cock where it had risen against his stomach.

It was just enough, and Steve gasped, his cock twitching beneath Bucky's fingers as it went off. 

"I suppose I should be glad you're both at least wearing clothes, huh."  Tony stood in the doorway, hands settled in his pockets in a deceptively casual pose.

Bucky pulled back from Steve's neck, letting his top teeth drag along the skin in the process.  "I've heard knocking helps with that."  Steve's hand was let free with no resistance when pulled at, and Bucky considered it a victory that he wasn't pushed away. 

"So it does."  The man hadn't actually settled his gaze on them, choosing to focus on the opposite wall, and then his watch with a shift of his arm.  "Time to load up.  You ready Cap?"

Steve cleared his throat, his breathing already back to normal.  "Yeah.  Good to go."

"Excellent.  See you on the flight deck."  Tony's eyes flicked over for a second before he turned.  "Barnes."

"Stark."  Bucky inclined his head in return, and they were alone again.  A punch lit up his right shoulder with short-lived pain.  "Uhm, _ow_."

"Jerk."

 Bucky's reply of 'punk' was swallowed with a far more rushed kiss, but he didn't complain.  "Be careful, okay?"

Steve tucked errant locks behind Bucky's ears.  "I'm always careful."

"Don't do anything _stupid_."

A smirk ticked into Steve's cheeks.  "How can I?  I'm leaving all the stupid with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Splitting up into their teams gave Steve a little embarrassment relief.  He'd planned them, himself, before, and it became highly convenient that he and Tony were on separate jets after his send-off.  Tony had pulled Colonel Rhodes in, and the two of them took Clint, leaving Steve with Sam and Natasha.  Banner had been located after his retreat, several months back, but still needed space.  He wasn't exactly a dot on the government's map, but he was safe, and checked in with Natasha every few weeks.  Wanda and Vision were tasked with staying behind, providing updates as a home base of sorts.  Though, by all required standards, she was perfectly capable of field work, she wasn't quite ready to join in just yet.

Moving illicit alien artifacts couldn't exactly happen over Craig's List, but it made waves on enough of the underground scene that Steve's team located their first object's buyer in Europe within a day.  Whoever had initially found the stuff probably could have kept it quiet, if they hadn't been greedy. 

                [Got ours.  This toooootally required superpowers.]

                [Where's yours?]

Thumbing over the text alert on his phone, Steve rolled his eyes.  A small face with 'Z's emerging from a sleepy expression followed the first text.  At times, the emojis were _all_ Tony sent.  Steve replied, reminding him to take it seriously, that the rest could still be unpredictable, but knew before he hit [send] that it was a mostly wasted effort. 

Securing the buyer was easy.  No mastermind was on the receiving end, just a bored investment banker from L.A. that wanted a few kicks.  At least, that was his story before they tied him and gagged him in the back of his hotel room.  Steve had to turn his phone off, while they waited, to stop a barrage of emojis from Tony—though he had to admit some of the messages were somewhat entertaining, reading like a form of rebus puzzles. 

Sam was volunteered for the job of intercepting the seller.  From communication records, it didn't appear the two had met, and Sam's face had seen the least amount of air time in the last few years of news media focus on the Avengers and their actions.  He also lost both rounds of rock-paper-scissors.

"I just wanna remind y'all that I _am_ one of those 'regular human beings' that everyone's so worried about so they sent _us_..."  Sam tugged at his borrowed suit, tucking the shirt in the rest of the way.  "Just sayin'."

"Oh yeah?"  Natasha fixed another camera to the bottom of a picture frame, its painting a cheesy seaside knockoff.  "Technically, you and me both.  We could just let Mr. Muscles do all the work; I bet he wouldn't complain."

"I heard that."  Steve was setting up the computer cords in the other room, with their special guest.  Natasha would be doing the technical work, since computers were still just a little too foreign for him, despite understanding the basics.

Natasha's voice was sickly sweet when it called through the wall.  "You were meant to!"

Relief that their seller was a nobody was short-lived due to logic; someone else was probably pulling the strings on the artifacts in play.  Even so, they recovered the blasting staff, Sam wanting nothing to do with actually touching it. 

Hands held palms out, he let Natasha and Steve lead the way out, opting to tote the two in custody from the rear.  "I've seen horror movies enough to know what happens to the only black dude in the room who touches the zappy alien stick.  Uh-uh, that's _all_ yours." 

They settled in a hotel that night, waiting for backup to lighten their travel load.  Privacy was a luxury, but Steve managed to step outside on a quiet, empty stairwell while Sam and Natasha set up their room.  Turning his phone back on, he made quick work of updating Tony before texting Bucky.

                [You awake, Buck?]

Rather than receiving a return buzz through his palm, Steve smiled as Bucky's face appeared on the screen above the 'swipe to answer' message.  "Hey, did I wake you?"

_"You're like 5 hours ahead of me right now, pal.  It ain't even dark yet."_

A look at the Stark-ified watch on his wrist would have told him that, already.  "Damn.  So I guess you're not in bed, yet, huh."

 _"Did you want me to be?"_  

Cursing inwardly at how inviting Bucky's tone was, and how far away he was while using it, Steve leaned against the stairway's inner wall.  "Only if I can share it with you."  The connection was crystal clear, leaving him with no need to speak up, for which he was grateful.  Over the speaker, he could hear the creaking of springs, and his mouth ticked up into a smile.

_"Let me get this straight... I'm only allowed in bed if you're HERE?"_

Indignation was clear, and Steve found his smile widening without his permission.  "You could sleep on a couch."

 _"What about jerking off?"_   A rustling sound met his ear, and then the methodical clicking of a zipper. 

A stifled groan accompanied a twitch to Steve's dick.  "God, you're gonna do it over the phone, aren't you."  No answer was needed, with Bucky's breath grating through the phone's mic in a harsh rush.  More creaks gave away that he was settling back on the bed, and Steve closed his eyes to listen more closely, to imagine he were there with Bucky.

 _"You gonna with me?"_ His sigh told Steve he'd already started.

It wasn't the first time Steve had cursed a hard-on, especially when it was Bucky's fault.  "I wish I could, Buck... I'm kind of exposed, here."  Reopening his eyes, he took quick stock of the stairwell, its connected outer hallway, and the ground below.  He listened, but even the thin walls of the hotel were quiet around him.  "I can't."

A groan with zero regard or need for keeping quiet lit up Steve's ear, and he had to bite back one of his own in return.   _"Can't?... Or won't?"_

"Can't."   It was as painful to say as it was to happen.  "What," he had to lick his lips to soothe them, "what are you doing?"

 _"Oh me?"_ Bucky's tone had turned deceptively innocent.   _"Nothing, yet."_ Springs readjusted, and Steve could hear the shuffling sounds of clothes being removed.   _"If you can't join in, you're gonna tell me what to do."_

Steve's stomach dropped out, and he let his head smack back against the stucco.  "Buck..."  All was quiet around him, still, but any knowledge of logic and irony he had told him that people would show up the second he started talking dirty.  Even so, it had always been hard to deny Bucky, let alone after all they'd been through, respectively, in the last few decades.  "Alright.  Just this once."  It would never be 'only once', he knew, but he could pretend to have some restraint.  "You're naked already, right?"

An affirming hum rumbled into his ear.

Steve lowered his voice, speaking directly into the phone's mic, holding it closely, cupped to his face.   "Ok..."  Closing his eyes, he got the picture in his mind, and one corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk.  "Right hand on your stomach, flat.  Left on your chest, but don't press down, let the tips of your fingers just brush your skin."

 _"Tease."_   It was as much an accusation as it was a compliment.

"Shut up and do it."  The smirk widened as Steve listened to Bucky's breathing, knowing the exact moments the cool metal hit his skin.  They were still exploring the way Bucky's arm never seemed to completely warm to touch.  Further experimentation was still awaited, their physical relationship taking time to fully rebuild.  “Touch ‘em.”  Steve nearly felt a tingle through his own nipples, just thinking about the order.  A moan lit his ear, and even knowing it was absolutely played up for his benefit, he still felt his face start to flush.

 _“When do I touch my dick?”_   It was flippant, cheeky, and Steve grinned, leaning his back against the wall.

“You touch your dick when I tell y—”  Turning his shoulders was all it took to realize, with a startle that made his entire face finish reddening, that Natasha had apparently joined him on the stairwell.

_“…Steve?”_

“How, uh… How long?”  No other words were necessary, which was perfect because he didn’t have any.

Most of her features unreadable, Natasha’s eyes danced with laughter she graciously—if just barely—held back.  “To be fair, I honestly thought you’d notice sooner.”

“So you heard ev—”

_“…Steve…?  Wait, was that Romanov?  Tell her—”_

Steve ignored the absolutely filthy Russian flying at his ear. 

“Enough to last me, Rogers.”  Unfolding her arms, she tossed her head in the direction of the room.  “We’re all set up…  Just wanted to give you your key.”  The magnetic card was held out to him, and he couldn’t meet her eyes as he took it.

“Yeah, thanks.”

_“STEVE.”_

“No, Buck.”

Pursing her lips for only a second, Natasha had Steve’s phone before he could even think about pocketing it.  Her voice was sultry, purring into the mic as she told him, in an inviting tone in her home language, that he could have a date with her favorite set of garrotes any day he pleased.  Steve laughed, Natasha made a disgusted face, and Steve knew Bucky had accepted, unfazed, probably even excitedly.

“Changed my mind,” she handed the phone back, “I don’t want any part in this conversation.”  As Natasha walked away, Steve could hear Bucky’s laugh from the phone long before he put it back to his ear.  The mood was definitely lost, for the moment, and Steve was too embarrassed to continue anyway, but just hearing Bucky so at ease was enough to send him to rest for the night with a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Colonel Rhodes’ team—Tony’s only by his own description—had to engage a band of local mercenaries who had gotten their hands on a group of weapons.  Steve would have been quickly on board to help them out, but their focus remained split.  Their side was luckier with the next red-dot stop on the map.  Sam thought so if only for not needing any more of ‘that spy shit’ this time around, but also for practicality.  There, his services as an eye in the sky were more valued, and his talents could be put to better use.  Even if Natasha had made it very clear what she thought of the suit and the look he’d borrowed.  For that alone, he _almost_ wished they had another gig, but not quite. 

For their part, though the tact team had pinpointed a specific area that their next mark had last been seen, a precise location hadn’t been known.  Photos, a falsified passport, and the specs for, though no exact descriptions of, the item in question were waiting for them in the northern mountains.  The air was clear, winds friendly for the season, and Sam spent most of his time out and up, leaving Natasha and Steve to the ground work.

An entire week went by before their first sighting, and Steve was growing antsy at the blackout of cell and internet services.  A satellite hookup was available, for emergencies, but ‘checking up on his boyfriend’ wasn’t exactly under most definitions of ‘emergencies’, even if his teammates would have absolutely understood.

“I’m sure he’s fine, Steve.”  Natasha had come up behind him as he stood in front of a local map, well announced this time.  He had been able to hear each step she took, and the effort was both clear and appreciated.

Nodding to her, Steve put away his phone.  Again.  Despite its uselessness at the moment, he couldn’t stifle the habit of checking it.  Going dark was part of the realities of the job, and they both knew it, but he still found himself wondering if Bucky was worried about _him_ , as well.  “Yeah, I know.  Doesn’t stop the worry.” 

“Oh yeah,” she pointed with a vague wave towards his face, “they can see those muscles jump from D.C.”

“Funny.”

“You know there’s a sat-link in the quinjet, right?”  There was a shine in her eyes, and Steve raised an eyebrow.  Of course he knew.  “What?” the tone was that sort of mock-offended that came second nature to her, but fooled very few.  “It’s encrypted, it’s private.”

At that, Steve huffed a not-quite laugh.  “You know as well as I do that those are _not_ the same thing.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have both, does it?”  When he didn’t bite, she continued.  “There are ways around the automatic security protocols that log and record.”

Steve found himself smiling despite that gnaw in his gut.  “Still trying to find me a date, huh.”  Even so, he followed her to the jet, watching with as much confusion as curiosity as she worked the terminal to override its coded commands.  “This one not so smart?”

A quiet but sharp laugh exited her throat.  “I _designed_ this one.”  Already finished, she swiveled in her chair, holding out a splay-fingered hand to indicate invitation.  “All yours, Captain.  It’s all set to connect directly to Barnes’ room, through but not really _with_ the intercom system.”

“So it’s private, now?”

The mock-offended tone returned.  “Yes, but it was also _hard_ , Rogers.  It took _effort_ , you could show a little—”

Steve waved her off with a half eye-roll.  “I got it.  Thank you for your effort, and your sneakiness.”

Her grin showed teeth.  “My pleasure.”

Giving her shoulder an appreciative squeeze, he waited to sit until he’d seen her exit the jet, accompanied by the hiss of its ramp closing.  Letting out a breath, he pushed enter, and the screen blipped, showing a rotating circle meant to instill patience, but which never had the desired effect.  Eyes wandering after only thirty seconds, he nearly missed when it flickered, and a hazy image steadily stabilized.

“Buck?”  He sat up straighter, making sure he was in range of the camera lens on his end, even knowing they were wide-angled.

At first, there was nothing, and he worried that all of that trouble was for nothing and Bucky was out, but remembered that, to connect, someone had to accept the ‘call’.  A moment’s patience was rewarded by the camera refocusing and Bucky appearing from the side.  His hair was even more out of control than usual, barely obeying the quick tucks behind his ears as he sat, bathrobe cinched at the waist and coffee mug in hand.  Once again, Steve realized he had no idea what time he was calling at.

“I’m here.”  The words came after a sip, and a sleepy smile settled the flutter in Steve’s stomach.  “You been busy, huh.”  The flutter was replaced by a small pang of guilt, then.  It must have been obvious, because suddenly Bucky set the mug down, holding a hand up.  “Not how I meant it, so don’t do that guilty-puppy thing, okay?”  Another drowsy smile nearly melted Steve right into his seat.

With a sigh, Steve settled more comfortably, simply glad to have him on screen.  “No cell service.”  He ignored the puppy comment in favor of explanations, holding up the currently-useless device to be seen.  “I guess I’ve gotten used to being able to call or text you whenever I want.”  The flutter returned for a moment, and he frowned slightly.  “Everything going smoothly over there?”

Hesitation flickered over Bucky’s features for a fraction of a second before it cleared.  “Yeah.”  A sip of his coffee seemed as much a stalling action as quenching thirst, and Steve’s eyes narrowed, watching the calculation in Bucky’s eyes even over the screen’s distance. 

“Buck.”

Seeming to listen for a moment, quietly, Bucky leaned in, less of the room visible.  “I’m fine, it’s fine.”  He waved a hand to stave off arguments.  “There’s stuff going on that they either think I don’t notice or don’t care if I do, ‘cause they aren’t telling me anything.  No one’s talked to me in a few days.”  On anyone else in their team, Steve could take the words at face value, but he knew—much better than he could even see—the anxiety that would be causing Bucky.

“You still going to your sessions?” 

Discomfort was clear in the shift to Bucky’s shoulders.  “Yeah.”  Mug set down, he ran both hands through his hair.  “They’re going okay, but we don’t have to talk about ‘em.”

Steve smiled softly.  “That’s fair.  It’s just good to see your face.”

“You alone?”

Nodding quickly, Steve almost felt guilty he hadn’t yet reassured him of that.

“How long do you have?”

“…Not sure, why?”  Steve’s eyebrow rose, not having even thought of a time limit.

“Well, if it’s not _long_ , then you can either waste it being mushy, or you could finish what we tried to start last week…”  Before Steve could reply, Bucky’s robe was sliding off his shoulders, revealing softly shining metal, warm-looking skin, and nothing else.  His smile was still the sort of goofy that came with having recently been woken up.  The combination was irresistible. 

Before saying anything back, Steve let his eyes take in the picture in front of him.  It wasn’t an overly large screen, but it was clear, and the little imperfections in Bucky’s skin, the scars, the divots, the freckles and color variations, were all there.  Some were old, original and familiar.  Many more were new, yet to be memorized and catalogued, though that would be best done in person. 

“Alright,” shifting in the seat again, Steve rested his hands on his thighs, “hands on your stomach, first.  Both.”  With the direction complied, he repeated their previous start, this time able to see the puckered flesh as Bucky’s metal fingers brushed over his nipples, each in turn.  Though Steve’s eyes roamed, he was well aware that those mostly-blue irises never left his.  By the time his orders led Bucky’s hands to his inner thighs, to their creases, to the skin just next to the base of his shaft, Steve’s breathing had become louder and scratchier in response to the encouraging sounds filtering through the speakers.

Bucky shook his head as soon as Steve’s hand slipped under his waistband.  “Lemme see it.” 

“Here I thought you put _me_ in charge.”

“I’ll give you a better view…” 

It was a taunt as much as it was an offer, and Steve relented, watching Bucky’s face as he drew the waistband away from his stomach with one hand, the other slowly maneuvering his cock into view, standing straight at attention like a proper soldier.

Tongue darting over his lips before the bottom one was drawn between his teeth, Bucky made good on his promise, propping one heel up on the small ledge in front of the screen, giving Steve’s view more of his body included, even if his toes nearly blocked the camera for a moment.  A small LED light flashing beside the screen nearly stole Steve’s attention, but Bucky was cheating, his right hand circling his shaft, and Steve ignored the light even as it turned solid a few moments later.  The screen remained the same, and his only concern was watching that hand, imagining it was his own.

“You were taking too long.”  Bucky shrugged off the accusation of cheating, and Steve watched his body shiver at the touch of metal fingers to his balls, listened to the moan.  Steve’s hand tightened around his own cock as Bucky’s fingers slipped downward between his legs, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips while his toes flexed for better leverage.

The next moan that came to Steve’s ears wasn’t Bucky’s, and it wasn’t his own. 

“C’mon, man…”  With a third voice drawn out from the speakers, Steve couldn’t _see_ anything, but knew something had gone terribly wrong, his eyes going to the now-solid light.  Bucky’s eyes had widened, though he hadn’t moved just yet.

Hesitating only a second, Steve tapped a button next to the LED light, his lungs not quite cooperating as Clint appeared on a second screen above Bucky’s, a hand over his eyes.  It lowered for just a fraction of a second before a noise of complaint accompanied its blocking motion once more.  “I need these eyes later, you know…”

“Shit!... Clint, I didn’t—”

“What’d you do?”  Bucky’s hands had finally moved to cover his groin.  He wasn’t looking nearly as embarrassed as Steve felt, but shocked enough.

At the same time, Steve quickly covered up.  “Nothing!” 

“I didn’t sign up for the chat-roulette treatment, Cap, I was just calling for an update…”

Eyes on the lower screen for a moment, realization dawned on Steve.  “Bucky… your foot… did you push anything?”

“I’m still here… is everyone decent yet?  You know what,” Clint shook his head, hand still over his eyes, “I’m just gonna let you call me back later.  Yeah.”  Free hand fumbling over the camera lens for a moment, the second screen finally went dark after several unsuccessful tries from clicking buttons.

Bucky was laughing, and Steve wished he could punch the sound of it right off his face.  “Jerk.  _Tell_ me that wasn’t on purpose.”  Face rested in his hands, he forced himself to breathe again.

“I swear, I didn’t think I hit anything.”  When Steve looked up, Bucky was tying his robe back into place, leaning forward once secured.  “Are we cursed?”  A small, uneven smile was twisting at Bucky’s lips, and Steve couldn’t help returning just a little of it.

“No.  Well, maybe.”  He shook his head, flicking a brow in concession.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to call you back later, and I will,” he kept his tone firm, promising, “but right now I have to go have a conversation with someone about the definition of _privacy_.”


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky didn't get to hear anything about Steve's conversation with Natasha—and he could only _assume_ it was Natasha.  He had half a mind to plan on asking _her_ about it, when they finally returned, but was smarter than that about her boundaries, especially knowing how well she could flip him into a wall, if she felt the need.  It wasn't fear of being hurt so much as it was the preservation of walls.  As it was, Steve was able to call in a couple of days later, once they'd moved out of the dead-zone.  Without hiccups, he was told, their team was due back within the week.

That week turned into two, and after that, their contact was spotty once again.  Bucky left Steve a few messages for when he was in service range, to reassure him that all was well at home, but kept them carefully clean and chaste, by comparison.  The last thing Steve would want, by then, was a member of his team somehow hearing Bucky's dirty talk over a phone message.  It wouldn't top Clint getting a solid view of both of their dicks, but it would certainly embarrass him further.  Bucky preferred to be the sole and intentional cause of that, and to actually witness it. 

With the majority of its residents gone, if it weren't for him being there, the complex would be practically empty.  The telepath and the android were holding down the fort, of sorts, while the rest were working on their problem, but Bucky living there meant increased security from a rotating task force.  Maybe it was excessive, but he couldn't truly fault them for it.  Even so, with a couple dozen people in and out each day, he was still very much alone.  Though he kept to his routines, kept himself fed, hydrated, rested, and fit, without regular updates from Steve, he also found himself sleeping earlier, and longer. 

__________

What had seemed like a quick mop-up had turned into a month, all told.  Even the easy-camaraderie that typically followed their crew was taxed by the close of it.  The last items had found their way into the hands of a pair of previously-unknown enhanced individuals, requiring their split team to regroup.  The fight wasn't overly long, but it took their concerted effort to finish off, leaving them tired and mostly-uninjured on their way back home.

Of course, once there, it wasn't as simple as landing the jet and heading straight to bed.  Final deliveries had to be overseen, initial reports properly made, and the official hand-off of all of their equipment.  By 4:00am, Steve found himself back in street clothes, and quietly entering his room.  Bucky's was attached by an inner door, but there was rarely a night they didn't share, now, so most of his things had migrated over. 

Steve hadn't been able to get a message to him that they were back, or even on their way, so he peeked into Bucky's room first.  It was empty, and a soft smile settled on his face, knowing that meant Bucky was already in Steve's bed.  Though he was quiet enough setting down his bags and handling the bedroom door, he still startled Bucky awake the second he walked across the floor.  A few months earlier, and a knife would already be aimed at him, but they'd worked through that, and instead, sleep-tousled hair shielded the eyes peering up at him from the pillow, drowsy, but still sharp all the same.

"It's alright, Buck, it's just me."  Stepping closer, he held his hands out.

A low grumble emanated from the bed.  "Finally.  You debrief?"  Shifting, Bucky turned his shoulders just enough to look up at Steve more comfortably, a tick of his head aiming errant locks out of his eyes.

Steve nodded.  "Yeah, I'm good to go."  His hands were grabbed up in a sleep-warmed grip.

"Good.  Come to bed, and go to sleep."  A small yank encouraged his cooperation.

With a quiet chuckle, he acquiesced, shucking his pants, peeling off his shirt, and kicking off his shoes so that he was just skin and a pair of boxer briefs.  There just remained one final question before he could settle.  "Am I the big spoon, or the little one?"

Already turned onto his side again, Bucky was quiet for a moment in thought.  "Big one."

Carefully crawling over Bucky's legs, Steve slid in behind him under the blankets, slipping an arm over his waist.  It was covered briefly by cool metal before Bucky settled further.

"Go to sleep.  It's late."

Laughing lightly, Steve kissed his neck.

"I mean it."  Bucky's voice was already partially muffled by his pillow.  "Fuck me in the morning."

Steve grinned against the plates of Bucky's shoulder.  "Deal."

__________

Though he might have spent weeks sleeping more than normal, Bucky slept much deeper with the weight of Steve's body warming his own.  Time was, it was _his_ body heat that was needed for comfort, to keep Steve's winter coughs at bay.  Most times it helped at least a little, sometimes he still woke up to the terrible sound of angry lungs.  This morning, he woke to a strong arm cinched around him, and soft lips nuzzling at his neck. 

Enjoying the feeling, he waited several moments before turning his head, catching those lips in a sleepy kiss.  A hand cradling Steve's head held it in place long enough for Bucky to savor it.  "You got anywhere to be, today?"  He wasn't quite ready for that arm to leave him, but the job was the job, and it had its responsibilities.

Steve thought for a minute, pursed lips tempting Bucky to steal the words right out of his mouth, but he shook his head.  "Nope."

"Good."  Twisting, Bucky pulled Steve over him with a possessive grasp.

Following the motion, Steve held himself up, mouth quirking into a smirk.  "Might go for a run."

Mouth opening, Bucky was about to take the bait, the tease, and tell him exactly what he could do with that idea, but a new thought stopped him.  "Can I go with you?"

Surprise was quickly replaced by a nearly devious look on Steve's face, a twinkle to his eyes.  "If you think you can keep up."

Technically, Bucky was allowed outside whenever he pleased, but most days he didn't bother spending much time out while stationed at the compound.  Before Steve had found him, he had hidden himself in a city, a place with so many people that he was nothing by comparison, at little risk of being stared at, found, or recognized.  Here, everyone knew him.  Here, there were armed guards who were pleasant enough, but who surveilled him with trained eyes the second he stepped out the door alone.  They still watched him, with Steve by his side, but he no longer cared.

That, and Steve tended to glare at them until they stopped, which made Bucky smile.

Living in the middle of nowhere did have some advantages, and on a warm morning, Bucky didn't need to wear long sleeves and a glove, instead letting the early sunlight glint off his arm as much as it wanted.  They started from the rear loading docks, Steve having filled him in on his usual route.  Map committed to memory, Bucky gave a strong start, pulling ahead of Steve easily for the first few hundred yards, but though his strength and endurance could rival Steve's in capacity, they were both outmatched in practice.  Steadily, Steve gained on and then passed him, retaining a three-second lead from halfway through to the end of the run.

He easily could have further outpaced him.  "You went easy on me."  The accusation was only slightly out of breath as they headed for the locker room, typically quiet this time of day.  Steve gave him a noncommittal shrug, but it was agreement enough.  "Don't do that, next time, pal."

"Oh yeah?"  Inside, they both stripped down, and Steve backed himself into the squared-off shower area, flicking the water on to heat up while he stood to the side.  "And what are you going to do about it, if I do?"

Following him in, Bucky ducked under the spray, flicking his hand over his hair to splash the water at Steve.  "Maybe we should make a bet, next time... winner gets blown."

"Blown?"  Steve's eyebrow rose, and he tilted his head.  "I win, I get blown up?"

Bucky stepped closer, close enough to slide cold, wet metal down Steve's chest.  "Not exactly.  I've learned a few words in the last couple of years..."  A smirk twisting into his cheeks, tongue darting out over his lips, he held onto Steve's waist and looked down.

It took a second for realization to dawn over Steve's features.  "Isn't that the _opposite_ of what that is?"  Along with the tease, Steve pushed Bucky to the side and back, blocking him under the raised faucet, the water falling down over Steve's back and shoulders. 

Cold tiles sending a shiver through him, Bucky chuckled. 

"What?"

"It's the first time you've had me up against a wall since '43."  His smirk turned to a gasp as teeth set to his neck, up his ear, water running over Steve's shoulders and between their skin.  A grunt rumbled against his neck from the harsh grasp Bucky kept on Steve's hips, keeping him close.  Steam rose up from the water finally at temperature, and through it his eyes caught movement.

About to curse their luck once again, Bucky paused, lip drawn between his teeth.  It wasn't Stark forcing a joke and turning away, it wasn't Natasha feigning a flirt, and it was wasn't Clint complaining about his vision.  Instead, though the face on the other side of the tile floor was startled, its brown eyes were riveted on them.  No, not on _them_ , he realized once he traced the line of his gaze.  Sam was standing there, slightly out of breath and glistening with sweat no doubt from his own morning workout, and his eyes were stuck on Steve's bare ass. 

Steve was oblivious, catching Bucky up in a kiss that rivaled the rising moisture around them.  Maybe it was rude, but Bucky kept one eye open, tracking their visitor, who hadn't moved.  With bites lighting the other side of his neck, after, he reached to grab Steve's perfect ass with both hands, smirking the second Sam's gaze finally met his.  Those eyes had been taking their time shifting over Steve’s form before they snapped up to find his.  Steve groaned, and Bucky raised his eyebrows in a challenge that was met by Sam turning and quickly leaving.  His smirk widened, recognizing the look on Sam's face before it disappeared.  He made it himself, often enough. 

Sam wanted Steve.

That gave Bucky an idea.  It gave him _multiple_ ideas.  They almost left his head as it bumped the tile wall, Steve's mouth covering his, stealing his breath. 

It took pinching his ass to get a moment to speak, and he did so happily.  "We should head back." 

If only for logic, Steve agreed, and they made much quicker work of cleaning up.  Bucky kept a close eye on Steve's progress redressing, holding his phone in his palm and typing every time Steve's eyes weren't on him. 

                [Like what you saw?  You should see his other half.]

A glance at Steve, boot-lace tying.

                [I've seen him check you out.  The feeling is definitely mutual.]

A smile was returned as Steve got his attention, heading for the door. 

                [Connecting door through my room, unlocked.  See you there in 15.]

Locking the screen, he slipped the cell into his pocket as he stood fluidly, patting Steve's ass on his way out into the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (According to some research, the term "blowjob" wasn't yet widely in use in the 30s or 40s. The things we research for fic.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The chapter got long, so the end will be split into two!]

"Lock the door, Buck." 

The second they were through, Bucky barely had time to follow Steve's order before he was tugged towards the bedroom.  Chuckling, he kicked off his shoes on his way through the first room.  "Slow down."

"No."  Steve crowded in, pawing at his waist, his hips.  "I'm done slowing down.  Not while you're here, and we're alone."  Bucky’s shirt was lost quickly, and Steve's fingertips walked his hands up and down his torso.  "Do you want this?"

Bucky smiled fondly, pressing his lips to Steve's.  "I've never _not_ wanted it."

"Buck..."

A laugh shook his chest, and he tugged at the seams of Steve's pants.  "YES, Steve."  Smile cracking into his cheeks, Bucky's eyelids lowered as tight hips ground harshly against his own.  "I want it.  But you'd better slow down, if you're ever making it to my ass, tonight."  Even with the spoken advice, Bucky's own limbs disobeyed the logic, only holding Steve closer by reflex.

With his cheek against Bucky's, Steve's breath warmed his ear.  "I'll recover."  Strong hands made quick work of his belt, his pants shoved to the floor.  "And we're gonna need to work up to that... it's been a long time since that was normal for either of us."

"Steve..."  Bucky waited until he had Steve's eyes on his.  "...what do you think I've been doing, while you've been gone?"

Watching the shift in Steve's expression, the widening of his eyes, the flare to his nostrils, was like watching his face short-circuit.  He could only enjoy the display for half of a moment, however, because he quickly found himself raised bodily, and tossed through the air over the few feet required to land on the bed.  Heart racing, fight-or-flight quickly came back to excitement with Steve's weight pressing over him, pushing his knees out of the way, his hands already on the hem of his boxers.

The laugh that left him was almost scolding, though it bubbled out.  "It's not like it's Christmas morning or anything."

"Yes," Steve's face aimed up for a second, set firmly, brows raised for emphasis, "yes, it is."

Smiling at him, Bucky lifted his hips to help as Steve slid off his boxers, nearly too fast for their stitching.  Steve's pants were still in place, which was good, it would be less immediately awkward when Sam arr—

His smile turned to a full-on grin as he heard, through the walls, his bedroom door open and close.  Sam was being quiet, but moving smoothly, which probably meant he wasn't nervous.  Good.  Knowing Steve would hear, as well, Bucky moved quickly, rolling their bodies on the bed so that it was Steve against the mattress, and him on top, just before the inner door opened.

"...Didn't you lock the door?"  Steve's anxious expression might have taken the fun out of the moment, if Bucky weren't confident that he could fix it soon enough.

"Yeah," Bucky shrugged before his lips curled, " _yours_."

Before more argument came his way, the floor creaked, and they both looked up to find Sam leaning against the bedroom doorframe, arms folded.  "Hey, Cap."

"Wha..."

Shifting their legs, Bucky sat down on Steve's thighs, holding his own knees close to encourage him to stay still for the moment, with Steve's gaze flicking back and forth between them.  "See here's the thing..." 

"Bucky..."

"…I invited him."  Pausing only for a moment to allow Steve's face to swing fully towards him, shock completely unhidden, Bucky continued.  "I've seen the way he looks at you, and don't think I haven't seen you checking him out, too."  He held up a finger to keep Steve from arguing or deferring.  "Look, you'd have someone, if you were settled and I wasn’t around.  Even if I _was_..."  What they had between them had never been exclusive.  Bucky tilted his head, giving Steve a look before he let his eyes wander over towards Sam, who met them before looking away, shifting his weight just enough to be noticeable.  "It's just an idea, though... not my decision." 

All eyes were back on Steve.  Sam hadn't moved from the doorway, his shoulder having taken up residence in its grooves.  "Look, Steve, nothing has to be awkward between us.  If you don't want this, I'll leave right now, and we never have to discuss it, ever," one hand rose from being tucked in its opposite elbow, cutting through the air for emphasis, "I'm serious.  But if you _are_ , that doesn't have to be awkward, either.  Whatever you want from me, that's what you'll get."

Bucky waggled his eyebrows in Sam's direction, but received no reaction.  Steve's tongue seemed to make a valiant effort at its own waggling, but to no avail.  A few stuttering sounds left his throat, but his face remained perplexed.

Bucky watched them both, quietly.

"I can go..."  Sam straightened, planting both feet flat on the floor, and started to turn.

Like a switch flicking, Steve's voice was suddenly complete clarity.  "No."  A swallow took away the rest of any uncertainty in his tone.  "Stay."

It wasn’t an immediate motion, but Sam’s stance settled.  "Alright."  Sam uncrossed his arms, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed beside and facing Steve, one knee drawn up onto the mattress, and turned enough that Bucky could see his face.  His inflection exuding comfort with any possible answer, he aimed the question physically at Steve, but Bucky felt it directed at both of them.  "You want me to watch, or participate?"

Steve's reaction was immediate.  "I've definitely had my fill of people watching."

"Would you like your fill of something _else_?" 

Bucky laughed loudly at Steve's expression, and even Sam couldn't contain a laugh he aimed away from the bed, his shoulders shaking.

"Sorry, I had to."  Sam watched Steve quietly for a moment.  "There's no need to rush anything, though, you know what I mean?"  A few seconds of silence stretched out, but they didn't feel tense, and Sam took a more realistic route.  "Can I kiss you?"

Propping an elbow against the mattress, Steve raised his body enough to be better accessible, all the while nodding in agreement.  "Yeah, you can kiss me."  The words were barely out before Sam smiled and leaned past Bucky, at first just gently meeting Steve's lips with his own, and then parting more earnestly.

Despite having invited Sam, himself, Bucky hadn’t realized how excited he would be by the sight of them together, until it was right in front of his face.  He was still smirking as they pulled apart. 

"Now that's definitely better, sober."

Having been about to come out with a lewd remark, Bucky stopped at Sam's quiet words, looking back and forth between them when Steve chuckled.  "What?"

"We uh," Steve hesitated a fraction of a second, but Bucky still caught it, "we kissed once, before."

Eyebrows raised, Bucky waited expectantly for a moment before speaking.  "Story, please."

After a handful of 'you wanna?' and 'should I?' motions between him and Sam, Steve started up again.  "About a year ago, our team had a pretty tough go of it on assignment, Sam and I being the only two _not_ laid up in a hospital bed for the night after."

Sam cut in.  "Nothing _serious_."

"Right," Steve gave a tilt of his head to agree, "they were fine, we did our job, so we celebrated.  Sam and I went out for drinks."

Bucky could see where this was going.  "But you don't get drunk."

A small laugh shifted Sam's shoulders, and he shook his head in amusement.  "When your bar partner isn't getting shit-faced, sometimes it's harder to notice that _you are_."

Steve's smile was fond.  "I had to take him home, make sure he was safe.  He was... grateful."

"I grabbed him by the ears and planted one on him."

This was surprising news.  "What... like a peck, or..."

"No," Steve shook his head, chuckling, "it was... full-on..." there were hand motions for a moment "...it was... enthusiastic."

Sam turned to look at Bucky, giving him a half-sided smile, his eyes holding no resentment over his words.  "We found you, that next week."

Staring first at Sam, then Steve, Bucky balked.  "You never _talked_ about it?"

"We kinda had other things on our minds."  Sam's shoulders lifted in a slow shrug.

Unwelcome feelings crept into Bucky's mind from the peripheral.  "So, if it weren't for _me_..."

Steve was quick to sit up further, to reach out and touch his fingertips to Bucky's right forearm.  "Don't do that, Buck.  It's fine."  A light gripping squeeze spread the reassurance over his skin.

"Were you naked first on purpose?"  Sam had leaned forward just enough to give Bucky a better once-over.  All over.

Bucky raised an eyebrow in return.  "Well _that's_ a change of subject.  And no, it just kind of happened that way before you came in."

"So you weren't... showing off?"  Sam leaned more of his weight onto the mattress, into Bucky's space like a challenge. 

Both of Bucky's brows lifted together, Sam's mirroring, and their distance closed as dark brown eyes flicked over Bucky's body again.  He smirked, leaving his lips parted as a purposeful temptation.

It didn't take much, and Sam darted forward, his long fingers grabbing up Bucky's hair.  Soft, full lips captured Bucky's in a firm, headed kiss that opened quickly.  Surprised breath sucked in through his nose, Bucky met the action as a challenge, head-on as always, left arm bracing on the bed so he could lean in and gain some ground before Sam pulled back, the grip on his hair more slowly loosening.  Just before disconnecting, Sam left a sharp bite at Bucky's lower lip, looking all too smug about it.

"Well fuck."  Bucky ran a hand over his scalp, readjusting the hair Sam had shifted.  "How come you didn't kiss _him_ like that?"  His head jerked in Steve’s direction.

The answering shrug was slow and small, relaxed.  "Completely different tests."

"That was a test?"  Bucky smirked, straightening his back.  "I assume I passed."

Sam leaned toward Steve for a moment, stretching his neck and leaning his head, gaze aimed straight down at Bucky's groin.  "Oh yeah, _someone_ passed."

Looking down on his own, Bucky could see that his dick, which had lost most of its attention once he'd had to stop touching Steve, was halfway back up.  Steve was smiling when Bucky looked back up, his face beginning to heat.

"Buck... did you want him, too?"

"You think I'd've shared your welcome-home fuck if I didn't, just a little?"

"Well, it could just be that you wanted to give me a present _so_ badly..."  Steve stopped, laughing, when Bucky rolled his eyes and rammed knuckles into his side.  Even before the laughter faded off, however, Steve's gaze had found Sam's, and the look that passed between them, the small expressions crossing their features, Bucky could immediately tell that whatever they were communicating was about _him_ , and he didn't like that one bit.  No eyes were on him, but he knew Steve well enough.  Apparently, so did Sam.  Bucky found himself wondering when he'd lost the upper hand.

His control slipping, Bucky wiggled backward over Steve's legs, and though the movement was allowed, Steve stretched both hands over his ass, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

"You two teaming up on me?"  Bucky kept his breathing even, reminding himself that he was in no danger.

With a steady turn to sit the other way on the bedside, facing Bucky along with Steve, Sam shrugged.  "Nothing we haven't done, before."


	6. Chapter 6

Steve tugged, pulling Bucky closer, not flinching or seeming at all fazed by Bucky's left hand pressing firmly on Steve's chest.  "We brought you home as a team, didn't we?"

Before Bucky could reply, his mouth barely opened, his eyes lidded halfway as Sam swooped in to mouth over his neck, kissing, nibbling, while Steve attacked his lips at the same time.  Metal fingers still pinned against Steve, whose body crowded in, Bucky slid his right hand behind Steve's neck, holding on to steady himself.  That grip tightened as he felt himself tilted, falling backwards, and then four strong hands were holding him in place, his back against the bed, his eyes widening sharply.

"It's okay, Buck... we've got you." 

It was repeated, the words slowly getting clearer and louder, as if drawing closer to his ears as they went.  Only _after_ the reassurance came did he realize his breathing and heartrate had sped up, muscles over the length of his body having tightened. 

Steve leaned down, pressing a lighter but lingering kiss to his lips.  Sam's hands had left him instantly, as had one of Steve's, and only Steve's face remained close, though pulling away far enough for Bucky to focus on it.   "Want to stop?"

Leaning his head against the hand that shifted to his neck, its palm cupping his jaw and cheek, Bucky gave a small shake of his head.  "No.  I'm good."

Steve shared his gaze for a few moments before nodding as much to himself as to Bucky.  "Hey, Sam," his voice cast to the side, eyes not leaving Bucky's, "how about you prop him up?"  As if they'd discussed it, agreed on it, already, Sam shifted at the suggestion.  "So he can see better."  That wasn't the only reason, and the air in the room felt like they all knew it, but Bucky didn't have to thank him for it; he was sure they all knew that, too.

A raised eyebrow in Bucky's direction sought his permission, and he nodded to Sam, who had waited for the motion before moving fully, kneeling on the mattress opposite Steve.  Sam's thighs were warm beneath Bucky's shoulders, and though it could have easily been arranged that way, his head rested away from where those thighs met.  At least for the moment. 

Feeling much more exposed than he had before, Bucky went with it, shifting his legs to the sides far enough to pose more welcomingly.  "Alright, _Cap_... It's your show, now, huh."

The grin he received was soft, familiar, and it both soothed Bucky's nerves as well as stirred his excitement once again, just as it always did.  “I suppose it is.”

"You know," Bucky playfully kicked his toes at Steve's pants, "for it being your show, you've got a ways to catch up, pal."  Steve was, after all, still full dressed.

With a 'yeah, yeah' quietly tossed their way, Steve reached both arms up and back, grabbing hold of the thin material of his tee and tugging it over his head.  At least, that was the attempt.  Bucky and Sam watched as Steve proceeded to get himself stuck in his own shirt, the material bunched up just below his shoulders, arms locked upright for a moment.

Quieting a snort, Bucky smirked.  "You look like you could use some help..."

"Maybe if your shirts weren't so tight..."

Eyes just visible above the displaced collar, Steve shot them a glance from under his brows, the shirt obscuring the rest of his face.  "You can both shut your mouths."  It only earned him snickers from them both as he finally peeled the material from his arms.  Neither of them complained at the flexing view the motion provided them with, however. 

With the offending article tossed to the floor, marking yet another littered pile of clothing from the night's progress, Steve rose up farther on his knees, looking self-conscious for a moment before reaching for his belt. 

Beckoning him with ankles hooked behind Steve's knees, Bucky drew Steve closer.  "Want a hand?"

Steve paused at the buckle.  "You offering yours?"  There was that smile again.

"Actually," Bucky jerked his head upwards, indicating Sam, "I was offering _his_..."

Despite not discussing it first, Sam found the assumption more than reasonable, and he and Bucky each reached a hand to tug at the seams of Steve's pants.  They pulled forward, until he was in range, straddling Bucky's chest.  It wasn't an uncomfortable position for Bucky, who shifted to settle his head back, watching above him as Sam's hands deftly worked to open Steve's pants.  Not a hurried motion, but swift, decisive, and without hesitation. 

Bucky couldn't see Sam's smile from his vantage point, but it was reflected in Steve's.  Watching a kiss from that angle wasn't as sexy as he might have imagined, but he didn't have more than a second to think about it before his face was assaulted directly.  As a consequence of Sam's quick opening and then sliding down of Steve's pants, the freed shaft beneath them had escaped, unhindered, dropped to smack Bucky in the nose and eye.

"Ex _cuse_ you..."

He wasn't answered, and, ultimately, he didn't care much.  It didn't take long for him to take advantage of his newly acquired position, wrapping his lips around the head of Steve's cock.  Too much time had passed since he'd gotten a taste of it, and his own body could wait a couple more minutes. 

Steve's breathing shifted audibly, and Bucky's lips ticked to the side in a smirk even as his tongue spread flat under the weight of the shaft.  There were so many small ways to coax sounds from Steve before he gave way to moans.  To that end, moving his left hand flush to the front of Steve's thigh, Bucky pressed his thumb to its crease, pushing inward. 

Above him, space finally appeared between the other two's faces.  Sam joined Bucky in watching Steve, then.  Sam hadn't touched Bucky yet, not from so close.  There was a palpable tension in the passive contact of his shoulders and Sam's thighs.  Perfectly capable hands, when not occupied by Steve's skin, rested mere millimeters from Bucky's face, his shoulders, but his space remained intact.

Bucky could feel the little motions in Steve's muscles, the twitches, and how they echoed down through the shaft of his cock, shifting it in his mouth.  He wasn't even putting earnest effort into sucking it, yet.  In a way, the weight was a familiar thing, its contact a comfort.  And yet it was also a tease, holding it in his mouth, letting his tongue get reacquainted, remembering each ripple and fold, which veins bulged, exactly how long before—

A far more lewd smirk overtook him, and he took his mouth back to flick the tip of his tongue over the small opening, gathering the drop that appeared there.  — _that_.

A breathy voice aimed softly towards him from above.  "Here I thought you wanted it in your ass..."  There was a catch in Steve's throat, his voice deepening just a little, rougher from heavied lungs.  That weighted sound no longer needed to light Bucky's concern for the _rest_ of Steve's night, the way it once did, leaving only the pleasure of causing it.

Tilting his head back, careful not to make extra contact beneath it and against Sam, Bucky flicked his head to get the hair out of his eyes, and met Steve's gaze.  "Who says I'm _not_ getting that?"

Steve's fingers tucked the lock of hair behind Bucky's ear, their tips running over the lobe, down the side of his neck, pressing in at his collarbone.  The look on his face was fond, the small smile not everyone was privy to.  "You know, you're making a solid case for me to lose it on that face."

Bucky nearly allowed his lips to puff into a pout.  As it was, he gnawed at the inside of his cheeks for a moment, in annoyance.  "You _could_ do both," it certainly was true enough, "but later."

In the interest of holding Steve to the tenuous agreement his chuckle had struck, Bucky planted his hands against the mattress, carefully sliding his body up along Steve's, freeing his legs by leaning his back towards Sam for balance.  While he could have easily avoided the contact, again, it was a good start to the rest of the night.  To help, Sam steadied him from behind with open hands beneath his shoulders, until he was beside them. 

Steve kicked his pants off the rest of the way, and Bucky stole a kiss before backing away.  He wanted a better angle, so he turned to face away from Steve, though just as his line of vision passed beyond him, he caught a look on Steve's face as it aimed at Sam.  A warning, but not in enough time for him to predict the maneuver or prepare for it. 

They moved slower, this time, their movements more fluid, and he knew they were giving him a chance to adjust as they went, giving him a way to stay calm.  His appreciation for the change went unspoken, not to distract them and ruin its effect.  With knees planted on the mattress, he admired the smoothness with which Sam slipped his shirt up and off, sliding onto his back beneath Bucky's chest, feet first as his legs stayed straight between Bucky's.  At the same time, Steve moved up close behind Bucky, a firm, flat palm tracing down his spine as he went.

Even after being tucked behind his ears, Bucky's hair obscured much of his vision, hanging down to frame his face, falling in waves in the air between his face and Sam's.  It almost hid the other's approach, but Bucky saw the kiss coming, met it earnestly, almost surprised when Sam let his head rest back in a nearly passive move.  That surprise was short-lived; Steve had found lubricant, and his fingers slicked over Bucky's bottom, a different set winding into those errant locks of hair, holding his body in place by discouraging him from squirming away. 

His kisses became less coordinated the more he focused on breathing, on staying relaxed.  His mind was as perfectly aware that it was Steve touching him as it was fighting to keep that knowledge.  Who else, but Steve, after all, could find that center of nerves so _quickly_?

A gasp into his lungs broke his contact with Sam, and dark, goatee-lined lips pulled into a smirk below him.  "Someone's got your number."

Bucky couldn't even argue the point, both because Sam was correct, and because Steve's fingers had crooked inside of him, sending shocks of sensation through his muscles.  Momentarily, they left, but returned more smoothly, leaving him slicker and more ready—physically, at least—for Steve.  His mind, on the contrary, needed no more time.

With some completely unnecessarily spoken encouragements, Steve followed up his fingers with a much better stretch, pressing the tip of his cock against Bucky's hole, instead.  Biting his lip, Bucky forced himself to breathe evenly.  He was ready for this, had made sure he was ready for this, but practice still wasn't quite the same as the heady rush that accompanied _knowing_ Steve was entering him. 

"Don't you dare leak all over these pants."  Far from breaking the moment, Sam's comment forced a laugh—and, consequently, air—through Bucky's lungs, as well as a shake of a chuckle he could feel from Steve's body pressed close.  "I mean it, man.  Hold it in."  Despite the tease, wide, warm, supporting hands bracketed his upper arm and his side, respectively. 

Shifting against the hold, Bucky balanced to one side in order to tug at one of Sam's belt loops.  "Maybe you should take 'em off, then..."

Sam's goatee ticked to the side.  "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you."

Eyes trailing down the tight chest beneath him, where Sam's stomach muscles dipped inward, leaving a bit of room between his skin and the material of his pants even without tugging it away, Bucky shifted his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug.  "Just seems practical."

"You'll get your chance with that.  Later.  Maybe."  Sam smirked.  "If you're lucky."

"If _you're_ lucky."

Head tilting back and to the side, fingers squeezing lightly into Bucky's skin, Sam pursed his lips for a moment.  "You know it's not much of a comeback if you just repeat what I said, right?"

"Shut up..."

From above them, Bucky could almost feel Steve rolling his eyes.  "Alright, you two." 

With a commanding grasp on Bucky's hips, and a strong stride with his own, Steve effectively moved Bucky past snarky dialogue on the same motion that he moved his dick firmly into Bucky's ass.  Only breathing was left, and he focused on it, on keeping his balance above Sam as his eyes slid closed. 

In a moment, fingertips traced his temples.  "Nah, let's keep those open.  It's nicer that way."  Sam was watching him closely when he looked, the sarcasm gone from his eyes. 

Not bothering to even try arguing, Bucky set his knees farther apart to balance better, lowering down to cover Sam's mouth with his own.  He'd worry about his eyes later. 

The pressure of Steve leaning his weight forward over his back drew a grunt from Bucky's throat, though he didn't pull away.  "You two look good like that."  Long fingers found Bucky's cock, slipping smoothly around its length, dragging a pull along it.

His moan must have tipped off Sam, whose palm pressed Steve's hand and the head of Bucky's shaft up flat to Bucky's stomach, earning a squirm.  "I told you," shifting his face to the side, he broke free of the kiss, "not on the pants."

Directing all of the force of his weight to his knees, digging his toes into the mattress, Bucky rose upward against Steve.  Making quick fingerwork of Sam's clasp and zipper, one swift motion forced the other's pants down to his knees. 

"Steve, li'l help?"

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, Steve had reached to drag Sam's pants off of his legs, socks and all.  Barely helping, amusement tugging at his brows, Sam merely raised his knees to settle against the outside of Bucky's waist, once freed.  Resting his weight on his hands again, Bucky relaxed his position, and as he was released, he could feel his shaft rest against Sam's. 

It was a pleasant enough position even before Steve began a new rhythm, and after Bucky found the tip of his cock grinding against Sam's stomach, against his shaft, which was full and lying against his stomach when Bucky glanced down.  That view was good, and he kept it, breathing heavily towards his own chest with Steve working into him, with Sam's hips rising in a much slower pace, but enough to keep consistent sensations between them. 

"He's not gonna last long."  Amusement echoed beneath him and above him as Steve agreed.  They weren't wrong.

Motion knocking all his hair loose from behind his ears, Bucky had no warning, again, to the plans being made against him.  In a concerted effort, Steve pushed the heels of his hands against Bucky's hips and lower back, with Sam's shins knocking Bucky's legs out from under him in a smooth transition until he was dropped bodily straight onto Sam.  Steve lost no time, and Bucky's breath disappeared entirely, his body rushed into steadily, his cock trapped, ground along Sam, whose hips rose with each of Steve's thrusts. 

Barely able to steady himself between them, Bucky found the bedsheets past Sam's arms, holding on tightly.  All at once, his hair was grabbed up in a snug fist, and his head pulled back to his shoulders so Steve could lean further over him, breath panting from his nose against Bucky's cheek as he kissed him.  Bucky hardly had time to taste Steve's tongue before he was traded off, different fingers caught up in his loose locks, and Sam's lips covering his mouth.  Muscled arms bracketed them both, planted on either side of his and Sam's shoulders.  Steve was sending them both deeper into the mattress, knocking the breath out of all three of them.

By the time he could feel the pressure building, could tell he was close to losing it, he had lost all sense of rhythm.  He had lost all attention to what was happening besides the slide of Steve's cock inside of him, his own dragging along with Sam's, and Sam's mouth stealing what little breath he had left.  Orgasm punched through him in a rush, without warning, his body tense and shuddering against theirs. 

Sam was next, shoving his nose against Bucky's neck, his fingers still caught up and tangled through Bucky's hair.  A squirming shift at his shoulders and hips allowed him to reach between their stomachs and take hold of not just his own, but both of their cocks.  Fingers wrapped firmly, Sam worked his grip to the motion Steve forced through them both.  His breath warming Bucky's ear, Sam grunted low in his throat, its vibration felt through Bucky's neck.  Heated splashes followed closely behind, striking Bucky's skin before pooling on Sam's, below.  The sliding grip remained for a few moments, a pulse of its own, before Sam released them, content, it seemed, to wait and watch Steve.

His face was hidden from behind, but Bucky knew that expression well enough to conjure it from behind closed lids.  More of the considerable weight leaned over them, Steve's palms sinking further into the mattress, all Bucky could hear was the punch of his own breath and the smack of meeting skin from the backs of his thighs to the curve of his ass. 

"Do it."  The demand was as much growled as spoken, and Sam echoed his own encouragements to follow it.  Steve grunted an unintelligible reply, but Bucky knew he was almost there.  His strikes had become erratic, unmetered, and nearly painfully harsh.  The extra stimulation after already shooting off was sending overwhelmed shocks through his nerves, but he let himself savor just how _much_ he could feel. 

Temporarily collapsing more of his weight onto Sam, for leverage, Bucky spread his knees to the sides, rearranging to straddle Sam's legs, and completely trapping both of their dicks.  Not that he minded.  The result was that he could feel Steve's cock sliding even deeper into him with every thrust of his hips.  If the groan that aimed at his shoulder blades was any indication, Steve approved of the move. 

"Buck..."  Nothing else made it out before the hitch in Steve's breath, the stutter that sent his hips to stay forward, knocking the air out of Bucky's lungs.  From the rushed exhale that pushed at the locks of hair _not_ in Sam's grasp, it seemed to do the same for both of them.  With several twitches in aftershock, Steve at last relaxed, laying his body over Bucky's.

"Regular human, down under here!"  Sam's complaint was muffled, but urgent enough to strain his voice.  In a quick movement, Steve rolled himself and Bucky to the side, pinning Bucky's right shoulder to the bed and partly under Sam.  As Sam gratefully shifted to his side facing Bucky, Steve slowly pulled out, leaving Bucky empty for the moment, but safely and snugly bracketed by two strong, warm bodies.

"Sorry."  Aimed at Sam, the word fought its way past a kiss pressed to Bucky's neck.  "So," a new direction, aligned the same as another press of full lips, "that what you had in mind when you surprised me?"

A snorted scoff reacted for him, first, much to Sam's apparent amusement.  "No." Bucky only hesitated a moment before resting the metal-jointed fingers of his left arm against Sam's side, eliciting a quirk-mouthed smile, "but this was better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An IMMENSE thank-you needs to go to ObsessiveDebauchery for being a guiding light on this fic. She has been a faithful beta-reader, and kept me going while I diverted from TDKR fics. Without her, I never would have finished. ♥


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